I write short stories, around 1,000 words each. The stories range from science fiction to fantasy, horror to comedy, light to dark.
I post them twice a month. One is posted on the 15th of every month, and the other is posted right around when the month switches over.
I often write about disability, feeling confused, and holding onto small hopes.
Please enjoy my stories.
Just three little snippets, 1/3 the size of my normal pieces
(more…)Philea coughs, trips, and lands harshly in the dirt of the road. She pulls herself up a branch of a nearby tree and stumbles forward. Her destination lies down the road, the light of torches just barely visible from where she falters.
“Thebes…” she barely groans out, before a heavy and oppressive weight pins her to the tree. A massive lion’s paw pressing on her throat and ribs, threatening her last breath.
A woman’s head inches closer to Philea’s face. Her long black hair frames Philea’s face as she stretches open a long, toothy grin. The head was the size of Philea’s torso, and the mouth was mostly canines and fangs.
A heavy breath escapes the creature’s lungs, smelling of sickly sweet rot and copper. “What speaks with one voice, walks on four legs…are you…are you paying attention?” The creature lets up the pressure of her lion’s paw. Even if the woman escapes from the beast’s grasp, she still could have pounced on her, ripped from nape to flank…but the Sphinx was curious.
“Woman…why do you burn so much? Your skin feels like fire upon my paws. Your eyes are glassing over…”
Philea’s fear gives way to a bloody cough upon the Sphinx’s paw and then she passes out. Instinctively the beast catches her, more gently than she knew she could be.
“In a way…I guess that is an answer of sorts.” The Sphinx goes to bite the neck of the unconscious woman in front of her and drag her back to the cave, but then she remembers that mortals don’t have that soft patch of excess skin to grab onto. So instead she wrapped the stranger in her front right paw and walked on three legs toward her cave.
(more…)Xandros smells the scent of salt and brine wafting through the stone passage, as he and his fellow soldiers work their way deeper into the temple.
To his left, Theron drops his torch. “Fuck.”
Xandros notices the young boy’s hands shaking as sweat drips down the back of his neck. Same age as Xandros’ sister. Sending dregs to handle this monster.
Xandros picks up Theron’s torch and hands it back to him. “Get your shit together. Your brothers are depending on you. Act like it.”
The band of soldiers makes its way from the thin passage into a grand hall filled with statuary. Each recess in the wall has its own heroic figure, but through the middle of the floor are dozens of scared, running effigies.
Otus, who trained with Xandros when they both first joined, says, “I…I know this man.” He reaches to touch the face of one of the figures. “He was my neighbor…”
“Shape up, soldier. We do not have the luxury of distractions.”
Xandros continues to lead them deeper into the hall, weaving past the statues. The sounds of leather sandals slapping stone, of metal hitting metal, echo throughout the wide walls.
Except…the footsteps sound too quiet. Xandros notices that he should be hearing 5 pairs of footsteps, but one is missing.
(more…)There’s a jostle as I go over a rough patch of the track. The magnetic grip of my boots keeps me locked in as I hurdle alone to the managerial living quarters. Visited once to have dinner with the boss. Brought my daughter Bebe too. Coop wasn’t old enough. Fingers crossed the boss isn’t home today.
I need to get Bebe and Coop out of this place. None of this was worth a single damn if I can’t get them on solid ground again. Bebe’s birth was the happiest day of my life. Coop’s birth was alright too. I chuckle lightly to myself.
Gregor came here from Earth, said that the place is fine for kids if they still have family, but being in the system, it’s just too dangerous. I have to go with them. Can’t trust anyone else on this rock to look after them, not after the things he mentioned.
A few weeks ago, maybe a little over a month, we got the news. Some have been working extra hard hoping it will buy them salvation, but almost everyone else gave up in their own ways. Maybe if photos of the number of self-airlocked bodies were released on Earth it could change something. Even a story about how it complicated the relocation of management could put a dent in public opinion. I hope. I don’t know anymore, to be honest.
Ceres Mining went belly up. A blight ripped through the monocrop in the third greenhouse, and lax decontamination protocols took out the sixth and eighth ones too. The added cost of emergency rations and oxygen tanked the whole operation and the only way forward was to sell. We were told, and I have no way of confirming, that the higher-ups negotiated down the buyout if the buyers would help ferry out some of the crew.
Our boss brought us all into the warehouse, told us in person. He could have sent it through the messenger, let us read it ourselves. But he faced us.
He was one of the better bosses on the rock.
But he had a way out, and we didn’t.
His family or mine.
(more…)I’m not sure who will find this, but I feel I have to write this down. I’ve worked in sites the builders of must have thought would never be opened, and yet they wrote. So I will write too. My lantern is fading. The oil always burns quicker than I’d expect, no matter how many days I’ve worked underground.
I digress.
My name is Alexei Mauk. I have worked in excavations, translations, and not always with the most savory of employers. A year ago I was approached by an associate. He went by Mr. N and I knew not to ask for more. He told me about a site he heard of in southern France, not too far from Nice. He believed the site was a burial site, a tomb. An ancient Frankish chieftain had controlled the area and had amassed quite a large collection of gold jewelry.
Mr. N also had heard of some of my work, both the legitimate museum pieces I’d excavated, and some of the work I did to help make ends meet. He never directly stated it but his comments had a ring of a threat to them. But he didn’t just offer the stick, he also offered a carrot. He said he had a buyer already set up for whatever we found deep in the earth, and he was willing to give me 50% of the fee. Of course he could have always lied about the fee, said he only took 50% when he really gave me something like 10%, but even that claim was impressive from someone like him. To even pretend to offer that much money. I should have seen it as a warning.
Throughout the year we had many false leads and dead ends, and a particularly harsh winter, rare for the region, made the prospect of digging out of the question. But, then, in March, we found a cave north of Nice. He visited the site before me and I thought that would be the end. I was only supposed to be there to find the place, he and his men would excavate it.
(more…)Michael opened his eyes and found only darkness. He blinked, and nothing had changed. In front of him he heard the sound of pacing footsteps, heaving, bare feet on carpet. He tried to move his arms only to find his wrists restrained, and as he struggled he came to feel the blindfold around his eyes. When he screamed for help, all he heard was a muffled whimper through the gag.
In front of him was a familiar voice, Xavier. Thank God, thank Mary.
Xavier’s voice was cracked and weary. “Ah, good, good. You’re awake. Good that you are awake.” Michael heard the shifting of feet on the rug as Xavier got in closer. Xavier continued, “I want to remove your gag, but you must promise to listen. Do you promise? Nod if you promise.”
Realization, then dread, set in Michael’s face, still warped by the gag and hidden by the blindfold, but he nodded, desperate to get the foul taste out of his mouth.
The gag was slowly, gently removed from his mouth, so he yelled. “Get me the fuck out of here Xavier. What the hell is going—”
The gag was shoved back in his mouth with great force, craning his head back and knocking over the chair. It felt like minutes as he fell, completely blind and helpless. His head hit the hard ground, just at the edge of the rug.
“No! No! No! No! You said you’d listen! Please listen.” Xavier’s voice cracked in two as he yelled, somehow both higher and deeper than he ever normally sounded.
(more…)Sierra adjusted the blanket wrapped around her shoulders as she felt another cold breeze blow past the porch of the cabin. She shuddered. The path running past the cabin lead towards the mountain pass. A ways down there was a fork that split the main road and the deer trails that hunters used, winding up the woods that clung to the valley.
Sierra’s eyes moved past the desire paths and up the mountain toward the little dent in the trees she was always told marked a drake’s den. She could never figure out if the shapes in the sky were vultures or drakes at this distance. She gripped the blanket tighter.
The door behind her creaked open and she felt a hand on her shoulder. Alex placed a plate with a warm grilled cheese sandwich on the armrest of Sierra’s well worn wooden chair. He then pulled another chair next to Sierra’s and sat down.
Sierra kept looking down towards the pass, away from town, away from the cabin, away from Alex. “Do you think he’ll come back this time?” She loosened the grip of the blanket, letting the cold seep in.
Alex tapped the plate with his knuckle twice before answering, “He always does. No reason to think this year will be different.”
Sierra snaked an arm out from under the blanket and grabbed a triangular cut of the grilled cheese and slid it back under the covers before ducking her head down and nibbling a bite. Markus gave them some extra cheese a couple days ago, and Sierra knew what that meant. Alex did too, even if he wouldn’t say. Even if no one would say it.
(more…)A young man sat on a bench, turning to check the timetables further down the platform. He still had a good half an hour but he could not get himself to stop tapping his foot.
Past the platforms, on the far side of the station were a dozen stained glass windows, and behind the man were another twelve. He could name a few of the gods of travel depicted on them, but not all twenty-four. Religion was not his best subject, and another two had been added since he graduated. A trade hub like Fora picked up more gods than they knew what to do with, especially gods of travel.
Fourth from the right was the one he knew best, Thera. After all, he was named after her.
He shook his head, choked down a curse, and started to pray instead . This train hadn’t derailed in the ten years it had been in service, but how many stories could he recite on hubris? A prayer couldn’t hurt. In his head, he recited, “Thera, mother of travelers, who carries the moon gently…”
Suddenly, there was a hand on his shoulder, startling him out of his prayer, almost dropping his ticket.
Edric.
Edric stood there and said, “S-sorry for startling you. Hope…hope I’m not bothering you. Can I take this seat?”
The young man sat silent, ignoring Edric, with his stupid salt and pepper beard and calloused fingers that still felt like sandpaper on his shoulder.
(more…)Nina flipped up the personal mirror over her seat, placed her chapstick back in the central console, and turned up the radio. The music was new, at least to her. Some band she never heard of, but honestly, pretty good. She liked how it was kind of jaunty, high energy, but without overstating itself. So much new music was trying to be more than it needed, and this, this was just something you could really lean into, follow the groove.
She reached down the side of her seat and leaned it back, pulled out her phone, and checked for updates.
No messages for the past half hour. That was fine. No reason to get concerned.
She read Rae’s last message again. “hey mom, could you come pick me up from blue oaks? meet you at the park’s front lot, if that’s okay. love you.”
It was probably fine, only twelve minutes since Nina texted back that she was in the lot.
She adjusted her seat back up, getting ready to pull up Rae’s contact and call her when she noticed in her side mirror that there was a thick fog rolling down the mountains. The park was named after the way the fog made the mountains, more like hills, look sort of blue instead of green. A little further south and the mountains would be described more as smoky.
Nina looked toward her rearview. “Hope she gets here soon. Don’t want to drive through that.” She looked back down and turned just a little, just enough to get a glimpse of movement. “You sure she said she’s on her way back? You know her, she can get kind of lost in the moment.” Nina saw the girl in the back nod, her hair bobbing.
(more…)Frankie shifts the phone to her other hand. “Hey, can you actually hold on a second?” She rolls her neck and hears a satisfying crack. Her shoulder muscles feel significantly more relaxed as she turns the corner to her stairs. “I’m back, but hey? Can I actually tell you something a bit weird?”
She turns around and looks back at her front door, just past the foot of the stairs. The fogged glass always makes her a bit uncomfortable, distorting the view to the porch, but she lets it slip past her mind and starts up the stairs.
Candice responds on the other side of the call. “Obvi, you can tell me anything. You should know that. I mean, as long as it’s not, like, anything gross.”
“It’s not gross.”
“Well, okay, you can tell me gross stuff too, but like, just…give me a warning?”
“No, oh my god, shut up. It’s nothing gross. It’s way more serious than that. Just listen.”
Frankie gets to the top of the stairs, rounds the banister and leans against it. She looks at the door to her bedroom, just above the front door and looking over the street. She looks away and continues. “Okay, so you know my parents are still out of town right? And they have me looking over the place while they are gone, just me and the cat. Well, when I’m about to go to bed I always close the curtains, but, before I do I look out. It just feels nostalgic I guess, but the place across the street, I think the Madisons? On their roof, every night, there’s like a shape, I think. Its honestly too dark to tell for sure, but it looks like a person is sitting on their roof, like right at the edge, legs dangling and everything. And it just freaks me out.”
(more…)
Stephen Hemmer Fiction 